Hear You Me
by RJ Lewis the II
Summary: When the sky starts falling, Lira begins to wonder if anyone is to be trusted. See profile for author note.
1. Chapter 1

**Just an idea that popped into my head last night. I'm not guaranteeing any give amount of chapters in a certain amount of time. I'll update when I do, and hopefully you'll still be along for the ride when I do.**

**I own nothing except Lira and other characters you don't recognize. **

**Takes place around seven or eight years before the movie. May or may not follow through with the movie. It'll happen if it does.**

**Chapter One**

A lone girl watched as the village was engulfed in flames, sending smoke into the night sky, clouding the moon from view. She slowly sank to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest and watched in silence as all she knew was burned before her eyes. Her hands left gray imprints on the fresh snow, marring the perfect features of the nature that surrounded the chaos.

Rows of houses were overcome by the fire, unable to fight against the fiery inferno coming to destroy them. They did nothing as it swallowed them whole, leaving nothing but burned frames or embers behind in the wake of the flames. It didn't take long for the entire village to be taken by the flames, to be one step closer towards being forgotten. Someday soon a strong southern wind would come through the valley, taking with it when it went the ashes of the village. After years of the weather attacking the already broken down village, there would be nothing left to see. The place would be nothing more than a memory to those who had lived there.

Lira did nothing as her village was destroyed before her, not bothering to wipe away the single tear trailing down her face, living a clean trail through the mixture of smoke and ash plastered to her face. She didn't change her line of sight from the burning village as yells sounded behind her and the snow crunched beneath the feet of the attackers. She didn't protest or fight against the rough hands that grabbed her under the arms and pulled her to her feet.

She didn't look away from what was left of her life burning away as the Saxon pulled her roughly towards the forest. Walking calmly between the two Saxon's, Lira followed them peacefully towards an empty clearing where the rest of their party awaited them. A wince overcame Lira's face as the man twisted her wrist, forcing her to the ground on her knees. The man stared down at her with malice, a smirk painted on the Saxon's face perfectly, as if he practiced it in the reflection of a stream. He spoke to her in a foreign tongue, and Lira didn't bother looking confused.

It didn't take long for the man to become angry and he backhanded the girl across the face, throwing her into the snow painfully. Lira stayed where she had fallen, too exhausted to move, the nights ordeal attacking her senses and making her numb. She could no longer feel her fingers and her legs were starting to tingle.

Another man yelled at her, frustrated by her chosen silence, and kicked her forcefully in the side. Lira felt tears start to fall over her face and curled into a ball, ready to protect herself from further attacks. The men seemed to lose interest in her quickly and moved on to building camp. A fire was built, casting its shadows on Lira's face, flashing images of her burning home seared her mind and she looked away.

It did not take the Saxon group long to prepare their encampment but Lira paid no heed to them. She stared blankly at a patch of darkness between the trees. She wondered how long it would take to run into the darkness, to be lost in the arms of the forest. Where she would go was unknown, she had no family, no friends to go to for help. There was no one beyond the walls of her imprisonment that would be willing to help her.

A rough hand grasped the young girl's arm, forcing her to stand. Another Saxon man pulled her through the small camp, and Lira skipped a few steps in attempts to keep on up the larger, longer strode man. He paused at the entrance of a tent, the one that seemed to be largest, and no doubt held the leader of the camp. A bark of command called out from within and the man pushed Lira towards the flaps, ushering her forward.

She stared back at the darkness again, bidding it farewell. There was nothing for her there, in the unknown. She had better chances with the monster of a man residing in the tent before her than in the frozen emptiness of the forest.

Lira allowed the man to push her into the room, not bothering to cause a scene. Nothing but cooperation would help her now. A wall of heat hit her in the face harshly, like a slap to face rather than the welcoming hug of a family member. She walked across the purposefully laid furs that separated her shoe covered feet from the cold ground and was surprised by the man before her.

A young man, only a few years older than herself, stared at her scornfully from his place from a beautifully crafted wooden chair. He stood from his throne with almost a flourish and waved the man behind Lira away lazily. She felt the man nod and hurry from the room, letting in a wave of cold air into the overly warm tent as he left.

The man walked closer to her, almost daring Lira to back away, to show her fright like all of the other people he had pillaged had. Lira felt her stomach drop and her head grow light from the fear overcoming her body but willed herself to remain normal, to prove the man before her wrong. She jerked back slightly as he reached out a steady hand and grabbed a lock of her dark hair, pulling it up to his nose and sniffed it. He dropped it carelessly, and looked at Lira, smirk still faint on his face.

"What is your name, girl?" he asked in a surprisingly quiet tone, causing Lira to jump at the sound of his voice. His smirk widened at the sight of her fear and surprise but he said nothing more, waiting for an answer.

Lira studied the man before her carefully, taking in the light head of hair and piercing blue eyes, rugged and worn boots and the clearly used sword that hung grandly on his hip. It mocked her, showing how very small she was in the eyes on the man waiting for her name.

She allowed her eyes to trail down the man's form, looking for more hidden weapons, and saw the hilt of a dagger protruding from his boot. She was in no doubt that more lay hidden beneath his heavy winter gear, close at hand for whenever the time called upon them. She looked back at the man's waiting blue eyes and knew he was becoming impatient with her, his nose twitched in apprehension.

"Lira," she said finally, her voice low from the lack of use and coverage of grunge.

The man held out his hand to her, and Lira backed a step back in reflex. "Stefan," he inferred, hand still waiting for hers, palm up.

Lira looked at it uncertainly, not at all sure what cruelty would ensue the moment she put his hand in hers. She knew that a man such as Stefan could not be trusted; he was a murderer, the man that had just destroyed her one and only home. He did not deserve her trust; neither would he ever earn it. A man such as himself knew that as well, knowing his tries for trust would always be in vain.

After a few moments and realizing that Lira had no intention of taking his hand, Stefan let it fall to his side with a frown. He gave a small shrug and turned away from her, walking to a table that held a map upon it. His fingers danced across the smooth surface and he turned back to flash a small grin. "I am truly sorry if any of my men cause you harm. They do not always understand the meaning of 'do-not-harm'."

Lira looked at Stefan in slight shock, not bothering to keep her face blank. He was a Saxon, was not the entire meaning of their existence to harm anything and everything standing in the way of their advancement? Yet, this Stefan character expected her to fall at his feet after a simple and completely untrue apology.

"You burned my village, killed my people, kidnapped me and attacked me. All in the same night," Lira said in a soft yet heated tone. "And you say you're sorry?"

Stefan gave her a stern and almost angered look. "I'm trying to make things right with you before this goes any further," he said, walking closer. "My soul is black enough without the added guilt of a girl. I wanted to do this before you're given away, to know that this was not intended, and I _am_ sorry."

Lira looked at him confused. She didn't have time to question Stefan's words before the flap of his tent was lifted and two men entered into the room, a tall man between them. Lira felt her heart go cold at the sight of the tallest man, knowing without hearing his name who he was.

Cerdic paid no attention to Lira as he briskly walked into the room, his hunched stature frightening her to the core. The commander of the Saxons stopped before Stefan who looked slightly sick to his stomach at the sight of the older man. Lira jumped as Cerdic lashed out and backhanded him across the face and began yelling at him in Saxon.

Stefan did nothing to defend himself against the words of abuse coming from his better, only standing tall and waiting for Cerdic to cease in his ranting. Lira watched in awe as he stared straight ahead, focusing all his attention on the tent wall just above Cerdic's head, appearing as though he was paying close attention to raving man.

Cerdic leaned in close to Stefan maliciously, and whispered threateningly to him before turning away. He gestured to the two guards behind Lira and she felt her body grow cold at the feel of their hands on her arms. She looked to Stefan pleadingly only to find his back to her as he concentrated on the maps laid out on the table.

"You have my apologies," he called to her as Cerdic walked from the tent and the two guards started pulling Lira along forcefully, she looked back at Stefan a last time before the warm tent was left behind and Lira was face to face with the cold once more.

The two men were easily stronger than Lira, and she knew any attempts to fight would futile. She walked limply between them and allowed them to push her into a barred wagon, and fell to the dirtied, wooden floor in a heap. Pulling her torn sleeves further down her hair-raised arms, Lira crawled into a corner of the wagon, resting her head against the bars tiredly. She jerked against the wall as it started to move out of camp.

"They got you too?" a voice asked from the opposite corner of the wagon, startling Lira.

A young boy, a year or so younger than herself at around fifteen, stared out at her under a mop of brown unruly hair. He would be a tall lad, Lira guessed, if he wouldn't be cramped into the small corner, strong as well. Obviously he was well trained, possibly a farmer or soldier. He was easily not a Saxon, the hair gave him away, and his position of imprisonment confused Lira. Could he be another survivor of an attack issued by Stefan or Cerdic? It seemed the only logical answer to Lira's questioning.

The boy's pale eyes stared at her unguarded, awaiting her answer. It seemed that everyone that night wanted one thing or another from her. "Yes," she answered finally. "They got me too."

The boy nodded his shaggy head. "I'm Heath," he supplied kindly, giving her a soft smile.

"Lira," she said softly, glancing out towards the snow covered landscape as it passed by the wagon peacefully. If only she could be out in the snow, free like a bird.

"Don't worry about a thing, Lira," Heath said in a comforting yet strong voice. "I won't let anything happen to you," he reached out his hand, leaving his pinkie waving in the air. "Pinkie promise."

Lira laughed and linked her smallest finger with the boy's and they shook on it.

Their simple words seemed trivial and childish to Lira, but it was strangely comforting.

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	2. Chapter 2

**I'm home sick today, so I figured an update was in store. This is becoming my longest story so far, and I'm only on chapter five. Please, readers, feel loved. I'll probably start updating on weekends from now on, writing during the week. Reviews are always lovely. Thanks to my two reviewers **rejazzz **and **redrose7856**, hope you both like it.**

**For future reference, I'm not completely following the movie time line. Things might get a bit messed up, so think of this as a bit AU. I'm warning you now, so twenty chapters from now when I actually get to the movie, don't get surprised when it gets slightly changed.**

**Still own nothing except Lira and anything else you may not recognize. I also DO NOT own the legend of King Arthur or anyone/thing you know of it.**

**Chapter Two**

_It is easier to fight for one's principles than to live up to them._

_-_Alfred Alder

Lira blew on her frozen fingers and crept closer to the small fire Heath had managed to start, looking around the new camp with uneasy. It had been almost a month since the attack on her home, and she had already lost count on how many more villages Cerdic had pillaged since then. They had crossed the length of northern Britain five times over, it felt like.

Heath had kept his promise to her, letting no harm befall her and always making sure they had warm food and shelter for the night. None of the Saxons cared much what the two captives did, so long as they stayed out from underfoot. Lira had no ideas as to why they were kept alive, if no one needed them, why keep them hostage? Cerdic had made no attempts to contact them, much to Lira's relief, but she still doubted the reasoning behind their captivity.

In all honesty, the two captives did nothing during their day but follow dutifully behind the Saxons as they moved from village to village, taking what they will. Lira had tried to earn her keep, despite not wanting to be in the camp to begin with, she was starting to become bored during the day. But none of the men in camp paid her any mind and brushed past her, leaving her bored as ever.

She had made efforts to question Heath, but he had easily dodged her questioning, steering her on to different subjects. Lira wanted to trust Heath, he had given her no reason to doubt his integrity, but his lack of help on the subject was beginning to unnerve her. It was apparent that he knew something, but the younger boy was unwilling to share his information with Lira. Eventually, she gave up all hope of interrogating the answers out of the boy, who was sealed shut when she bothered him about it.

For near another whole month, she kept herself from asking about their purpose. Instead, Lira forced herself to pay more attention to her surroundings, to possibly find her answers in the men surrounding her. However, she quickly found that Saxon men were nothing more than brutes, doing little more than eat, sleep, pillage, and on the rare occasion, grunt. It didn't take long for Lira to know that none of them would be any help to her, in any way, other than to gesture towards food, if even that.

Lira restrained herself best she could from making any plans of escape or advances towards her knowledge of why she still captive. Heath revealed his birthday was coming quickly, or what they thought was his day of birth, nothing was for certain out in the wilderness. As it would turn out, he turned sixteen that day, leaving Lira only a few months older than him.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough about our reason for being here," Heath said for the millionth time, trying hard to keep a friendly look upon his face.

Lira gave a huff and resisted the feel to stomp her foot like a child. "I want answers, Heath," she said, taking a step towards the taller yet younger boy. "Answers that you seem to be unwilling to share."

Heath threw his hands into the air frustrated and nearly growled. "I don't know anything Lira!" He neared his friend, resting his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "Don't you think that if I did, I'd tell you? Don't you trust me, friend?"

Lira let her shoulders drop and let out a heavy, burdened sigh. She turned up to meet Heath's pale eyes, "I thought I could."

Heath looked at her, taken aback. Lira gave him a last look, full of resign, ready to accept her fate, whatever it may be. She had no idea what tomorrow, or the nest day would bring, but apparently Lira had no control of it. If Heath was unwilling to help her escape from their unknown fate, she'd go alone. She turned away from her friend, leaving him next to the fire, trying to understand the girl that had somehow wormed her way into his life.

He gave a great sigh, prodding the unsuspecting fire harshly with a stick. Heath knew that the only thing keeping them alive was keeping Lira in the dark. If Cerdic learned that Lira knew the truth, who knew what he would do to her to change Heath's mind. Persuasion was a powerful thing that the Saxon leader knew well and had no problem wielding it.

Though they had only just become friends, trust together by some unknown Fate, Heath wanted nothing to do with any harm that could befall Lira. If that meant he had to lie to Lira to keep her safe, he would. He had made a promise, and Heath intended to keep it. The reasoning behind Heath's stay with the Saxon's was his burden to bear, not hers.

Lira looked out of the barred wagon, watching as Heath continued feeding the fire angrily. She shook her head, to do. She knew that he knew something, something that could possibly save them both. But, if Heath was unwilling to share, Lira would have to bring matters into her own hands. She wasn't going to wait around to see how long it would take Cerdic and his Saxon goons before they became bored with her. She could only imagine what would happen when her luck started running out.

The picture was not a pretty one.

--

The next day, Heath was surprised to find Lira back to normal and unquestioning. She awoke before him, prepared a decent meal out of the scraps that she was given, and talked about the freshly fallen snow.

Lira was that odd girl that no one could help but love. Her quirks were fascinating and most often rather amusing. She was the only girl Heath had ever met that loved the snow more than anything. On more than one occasion during their time spent together, Lira had unformed Heath of the snow and its great amazing-ness.

"If it's going to snow," Lira told him a bright smile, hands held palm up as the light snow fell around her. "Then it will. It never breaks a promise; it's almost always on time. Every year it comes at the exact same time," she turned back to an amused Heath and lowered her arms. "Sometimes, it's the only thing left in the world that makes sense."

Heath let out a snort. "How do you figure that?"

A serious look overcame the older girl as she explained the greatness of the snow surrounding them. "It leaves, but you always have the guarantee that one day, it'll come back. Tell me of a person that does that," she challenged.

A few men came to mind, but Heath said nothing, waiting for Lira to continue.

"Snow will always be here, and it always has. When we die, the snow will still live on. Not to mention that it does nothing. All it does is _fly_," Lira's face turned wishful as she started twirling around in the snow, coming to a stop before Heath. She leaned in towards him secretively, looking around childishly to see if anyone else was listening. "Sometimes," she said in a whisper, as Heath leaned in closer to hear her soft words, "I wish I could fly."

Heath laughed as Lira backed away quickly and dance carelessly around in the snow, not even caring about the Saxon men around them. As he watched the girl, Heath couldn't believe the stories she'd told him, the ones filled with hate and mockery from her village. How could the village people hate and care not for the girl before him? Lest she be a witch that had cast a spell on him, Heath saw nothing wrong with Lira, just a spirited, loving sixteen year old girl.

A girl who deserved more than to be enslaved to a Saxon tyrant.

--

Lira let out a scream as hands grabbed her, pulling her from the wagon forcefully. Her eyes were bleary from sleep, but she lashed out at the thick arms holding her, scratching and clawing. The men paid no heed to her struggles and pulled her to her feet, not releasing her arms. Behind her, Lira could hear Heath fighting his way, trying to escape from the Saxons iron grips.

"Heath!" she yelled, trying to turn around and face him but was forced back forward by a Saxon.

The sky was dark overhead and the large fire in the center of the camp burned against the black inkiness. A few more soldiers were waiting around the fire and Cerdic motioned for the men holding Lira and Heath to bring them forward. Both captives were forced onto their knees, hands holding them down. Lira's eyes met Heath's as they waited in silence, both of them breathing heavily from the struggle.

Cerdic walked towards them slowly, snow crunching beneath his monstrous boot and he came to a stop a foot before Lira. She kept her eyes to the ground as he crouched down, lifting her chin up and making her look him in the eye.

"Pretty girl," he said in a low voice, tracing her jaw with a rough finger, "aren't you?"

Lira said nothing but pulled away her chin, resisting the urge to spit in the Saxon lord's face. He laughed at her, standing up to his full height, looking down at them with a leer. Lira was reminded of how a six year old would look at the bug he was about to squish with his shoe, finally understanding how that poor, innocent bug felt as the shoe came towards them, blocking out the sun.

Cerdic laughed at Lira's frightened face and turned back to the fire. "I'm sorry to inform you both that you won't be staying with us much longer," he said, pulling something out of the fire, back still turned. "You both are about to make me a lot of money." He turned back around, showing Heath and Lira the object in his hand and Lira immediately began to squirm in her captor's hands. "Got to mark the property," Cerdic said, coming closer to the two captives.

Heath's eyes grew wide as Cerdic came towards him with the white hot metal that had been formed in the shape of a C with a horizontal cross through the middle. A Saxon grabbed Heath's arm just as Cerdic came down with the hot metal and Lira shut her eyes against the scream of pain that sounded beside her.

She had no time to protest as one of the Saxons beside her pulled out her arm and the burning metal met her skin, searing it. Her scream echoed throughout the camp, waking those who had somehow managed to already fall asleep. Cerdic let out a low laugh, and threw the brand back to the fire, stalking away to his tent.

The Saxons holding Lire released her, throwing her into the snow and she felt Heath fall beside her. They lay in silence, neither speaking as the pain overcame their arms. Lira closed her eyes, hoping to ignore the pain as it sneaked up her arm. She felt Heath move beside her but kept her eyes closed. Her arm jerked as the feeling of ice met her burned arm and her eyes sprung open to find Heath packing snow on her arm. She looked and saw he had already put snow on his own branding and silently thanked him.

Heath stood up and brushed the snow off his clothes as best he could. Lira looked up at him and silently took his offered hand. She grabbed his arm as he started to walk away and pulled it next to her outstretched one, looking at the matching brands that would forever scar their skins.

Lira let out a laugh and whipped away a stray tear as Heath looked at her confused. She laughed again, motioning towards their brands. "We match."

--

Heath looked around groggily at the sound of crunching snow. The camp was quiet, it being in the early morning and the sun still behind the mountains; only a few men were still awake, keeping guard. He checked to see Lira still asleep under a thin blanket, her dark hair creating a halo around her head. She muttered something and turned on her side, leaving Heath to stare at her back.

His head whipped around at the sounds of more feet running across the snow and barely had time to duck his head before an arrow flashed out of the trees, lodging itself into the side of the wagon. Across the camp yells of attack sounded, dozens of blue men flew from the woods, killing men as they went.

Lira awoke with a start at the sounds of the yelling and looked at the battle going on beside them in fright. Heath crawled over to her, grabbing her hand and pulled her with him towards the door of the wagon.

Around the wagon the Saxons fought against the Woads, who seemed to reappear after one was killed. Dozens were still flowing out of the woods, weapons held high in the air. Heath looked to see many Saxons, some he recognized, be brought down by the blue demons. Though, as he saw them die, he couldn't make himself feel sorry for them. This was the punishment they deserved for their evil doing.

Heath turned away from the battle and back to where Lira was enchanted by the fight herself. He rattled her arm, making her focus back to him. "When I say run," he yelled to her, over the battle sounds, turning to her and forcing her to look at him, instead of the dying men around them, "You run! You understand me, Lira? You run as hard and as fast as you can for the woods!"

Lira nodded her head frantically, her face pale and white, much like the snow. All she wanted was to get away from the fight. She was a coward when it came to bloodshed, she was squeamish around blood, and even if the Saxons deserved their death, it was unpleasant to have to watch. Lira would be willing to follow Heath to the ends of the earth if it meant getting away from the fight before her.

Heath lurched forward and stopped to look back at her once again, "Don't look back."

Lire nodded again, having no problem with leaving the fight behind. Heath waited until after a Woad past by their wagon before throwing open the door and ran for the woods, Lira close behind. Her feet flew across the snow, the Fates with her as she kept from slipping and falling. Heath guided them through the havoc, avoiding the individual fights and bringing them to the woods without fault.

They sprinted into the trees, Lira looking back as the camp fell out of sight. Heath brought them to a stop and Lira looked forward, almost letting out a groan. Heath dropped her hand and raised his into the air, Lira following suit. The Woads however, did not drop their weapons.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Jeez, I'm really bad at this whole 'updating' thing, aren't I? Sorry it took so long. Christmas break and all. I'll try and get another chapter out either tomorrow or on Monday, but no promises. I would, however, like to mention that this is the longest chapter I have ever written in my entire life. Or, at least, the longest one for this story in particular. If you have an questions pretaining to whats going on this chapter, feel free to message me and I'll try to clear things up. Changes points of view, if that helps any. Please feed the addiction and review. Thanks much to the ones that have.**

**Yes, I changed my pen name. My friends all got new ones, and I was like 'Hey! I want one too!'. This one is actually closer to my name than the last, but I answer to pretty much anything.**

**Own nothing, still. The legend of King Arthur, and those involved with it, are also NOT mine. However, Lira is mine and I'd like to keep it that way.**

_Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you're scared to death._

-Harold Wilson

"I blame you."

The accusation came out muffled from beneath the scratchy, cloth gag that covered most of Lira's face and eyes. A Woad nudged her in the side with his spear, silencing the girl quickly, though unable to stop her piercing glare towards the boy across from her. Heath's feet were tied to hers, both of their arms tied behind their backs. They sat in the falling snow, face to face, caught in a test of the wills while the group of Woads looked on, unsure what was happening.

Only three men had been left behind with the newly found captives, the others disappeared into the forest silently. The three remaining had forced them to ground and bound them before taking a few steps away from them, as if they would catch a disease if they stayed too close. They conversed among themselves at first but had fallen silent to long after.

"How is this my fault?" Heath demanded, words coming out jumbled and causing the Woads more confusion.

Lira didn't seem to notice and understood her friend's words perfectly. She cocked her head to the side sarcastically, pretending to be stumped by the question. "Oh.. I don't know," she said in a sickly sweet voice, "Could it possibly be your idiot plan to run for our lives?"

Heath snorted and a few Woads backed away uncertainly. "I didn't see you come up with a better plan, Little Miss Scaredy Cat!"

"You did _not_ just call me a Scaredy Cat!" Lira screeched indignantly. She leaned forward, glaring while Heath nodded his head smugly, and Lira was sure that if it were possible, his arms would be folded across his chest proudly.

"I wasn't the one who hid like a little girl," Heath shot to her truthfully. "Excuse me for trying to save our lives. Next time we get caught in a battle, I'll leave you behind to fend for yourself. I'm sure that would go over well. I'm sure that if you ask someone nicely, they'll give you a pretty horse and carriage and you can just ride out!" He gave her an encouraging smile, or the best one he could with the gag. Lira gaped at him, open mouthed and shocked by his comments.

A tall Woad man appeared out of the trees, stopping Lira from furthering the bicker-ment as she turned her attention to the new person. Behind the blue painted man followed a younger man, a dozen or so men that Lira guessed was the man's guard. None of the men were clean in any way, all covered in blue war paint and the blood that Lira could only hope was the Saxon's.

The northern brutes deserved all the Woads had thrown at them.

The younger of the two men talked in hushed tones with the three Woads that had been guarding Heath and Lira, motioning towards them a few times. Lira glanced at Heath nervously, instantly forgetting their previous fight and watched for his reactions. She thought worry flashed across his eyes but when he noticed Lira's watchful gaze, he sent her a careful smile. Lira returned it and looked back to the tall Woad, wondering who he was.

It was apparent that he was of some sort of higher stature, why else was there a need for the guard? He was tall and lean, his forearms could be seen as defined, even in the little light of the nearing sun. A leader with no issues being another of his people, wanting to show his people the way to be by setting an example. His hair was dark and and cut above the shoulders, where it lay limp and dirty. A sword was attached across his back, appearing to have been well used in th earlier attack. Despite his apparent air of danger, Lira couldn't make herself fear the Woad before her, he reminded her too much of a grandfather, not a heartless killing demon.

However, the younger Woad behind him, Lira had no difficulties fearing. At least a head taller than Heath, the Woad was more than intimidating. There was a hatchet hanging from the belt around his waist, still bloody from the battle. The blue paint covering his body was smeared and running in a few places, making him look even more fierce. His eyes were piercing as they ran over Lira and Heath, seeming to almost look through them and into the forest behind them.

Heath looked almost uncomfortable and nervous under the gaze of the two Woads, Lira could feel him squirm behind her. She poked him in the back, silencing the boy's movements immediately. She wondered what was causing him to act differently, he seemed to always be the courageous one. Though he was younger, it hadn't taken Heath long to be the one that kept them both alive. He knew more about the ability to live than Lira could ever hope to, not to mention he never once complained or rained on a happy moment.

But now, his nervousness was starting to edge away her calm exterior. Together they had spend nearly two months within the boundaries of a Saxon camp, as slaves, doing the bidding of Cerdic and his baboons, and Lira had never once seen Heath the way he was acting in the presence of the five Woad men before them. Could there be something about the men surrounding them that Heath knew that she didn't?

The thought of the Woads being worse than the Saxons made Lira's stomach start to ache. It had been nothing short of a miracle that the Saxons had left her virtually untouched. She had heard the tales of women being taken against their will by the Saxons, none of them were good. God must've granted her luck by sending her Heath, who probably had saved much more than her virtue.

Lira would not be surprised in the least if she would be long since dead if it hadn't of been for Heath.

She had an aching feeling that if Heath was uneasy, she had every reason to be.

--

Gareth stared at Darh with a sick feeling in his gut. He knew that Darh knew who he was, what he was. There was no possible way that the Woad leader standing only a mere few feet away did not know his position. They had met too many times in battle for Gareth to go unnoticed. His heart started beating quicker at the possible outcomes of his situation.

None of them looked good.

Undoubtedly, the day would end with his death. Darh would be a fool to allow him to live, let alone set him free. It was an easy way to do away with one of the knights, a free-be in a way. Gareth could almost see inside Darh's head, watching the clogs turn as the ideas sprang through his mind. He had no doubt heard of the captured knight six months previous, a legendary knight of Arthur Castus himself. It would take a fool to not recognize Gareth, to see that he was in fact alive, not dead like much of Britain had thought.

Lira's sharp prod to the back brought Gareth back to the present, and he felt his stomach drop further. Darh took a step towards them, waving away the three guards around the two captives. They bowed and disappeared into the lighting forest silently. The younger Woad remained beside Darh, and Gareth had a sneaking suspicion that the man was Mairc, Darh's oldest son. Gareth stiffened reflexively as Darh crouched down before him, gazing him steadily in the eye.

"You are a long way from home, boy," Darh said in a low voice. He looked almost mockingly at Gareth and let out a soft laugh. "What happened to hiding behind your wall?"

Gareth said nothing and followed Darh closely as he stood up. Mairc stepped forward and Gareth felt Lira inch away indiscreetly. He was happy to know Lira wasn't stupid enough to believe the Woads meant them no harm.

"You're on our land," Mairc said, stepping closer as his father stared down at them. "Count yourselves lucky that you're still alive." He walked to them, pulling both Lira and Gareth up by their upper arms easily. Gareth stiffened as the Woad pulled a dagger from his belt and prepared to leap in from of Lira if need be. He stared in shock as Mairc cut the thick rope binding his wrists to Lira's and pulled them to him quickly.

"You're letting us go?" Lira asked in amazement before Gareth had a chance to speak. She looked at the two Woad men in astonishment as Mairc nodded his head.

"You may go," Darh said, putting his blue hand into the air as Gareth made to pull Lira away. She pulled her arm away from him, walking towards Darh in confusion. "You may go," he repeated, looking Lira straight in the eyes, revealing no threat. "But if you do, let me warn you. What is left of the Saxon army that imprisoned you will show no mercy to those they come across. I have little faith that you will be able to avoid them."

"Are you offering us a sort of safe haven?" Lira asked uncertainly. Darh nodded his head, much to the surprise of the girl. The Woad had little opportunity to move before Lira unexpectedly hugged the man around the waist. Mairc let out a slight laugh as his father awkwardly patted the girl on the back.

Gareth's eyes widened as he looked at Lira in shock. Was she insane? He was not going to risk their lives by allowing them to stay with Woads. For all they knew, it was a simple ploy to murder them in their sleep. Darh had more than enough reasons to do so, and Gareth had little trouble believing that his offer of 'safety' was nothing more than a trap. He had gone through too much to keep not only himself alive, but Lira as well, to just throw it all away on the word of a Woad. He was too close to getting home.

--

"No."

Lira pulled away from the mysterious Woad in confusion, ignoring her sudden move of emotion, to looked at Heath. He held a determined look on his face as he stared at the Woads. She took a step towards him as the Woads backed away a few, giving them room.

"What do you mean 'no'?" she questioned in a fierce whisper, grabbing Heath by the arm and pulling him forcefully away and turned her back on the Woad men.

Heath looked at her seriously and almost angrily. "I mean no, we aren't going to stay with them."

Lira did a double take. He was turning down a perfectly good offer, one, in her eyes, could possibly save their lives. She wouldn't be surprised if the Saxons were only a few miles away from them, recovering and angry from their loss. If she and Heath went wandering into the woods alone, there would be no way to know if they were heading towards the Saxons or running away from them. And if they did run into them, Lira shuddered to think what they would do.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't leave you right now and go with them?" Lira demanded, looking back to ensure that th e Woad men were still waiting.

"You wouldn't," Heath said seriously, though he searched her eyes to confirm it.

Lira let out a sigh, some of her anger leaving. She nodded her head, "Of course I wouldn't. But if I'm about to give up a good nights rest and some real food, I need a reason."

Heath quickly debated telling th e truth.. Mentally, he shook his head. Things were going fine the way they were, no need to screw things up more than they already are. The less she knew, the better off Lira would be. "I don't trust them," he said finally, half way truthful.

"You don't trust anyone," she fired back quickly, checking again for the Woads. They were watching the two conversing with amused looks on their blue faces, almost as if they could read their lips and mocking their childish arguing.

"I trusted you," Heath retorted, looking her in the eye, "didn't I?"

Lira let out a groan and stomped her foot on the dirt in an almost childish manner. She glanced around the forest for a few moments before looking back at Heath with a sigh. "Should I tell them, or would you like the honors?"

"Or we could just run for it."

"That would be rude," Lira said, grabbing Heath's arm and turning them back around to face the expecting Woads. They walked silently back to them and Heath looked at Lira expectantly. He gestured a hand towards the Woads and she rolled her eyes. She was about to open her mouth when Darh cut her off.

--

"They think you're dead."

Gareth resisted the urge to grind his teeth at Darh's words. He knew what the Woad was doing, and he wasn't going to let it work. He would get back to the wall, and no Woad was going to stop him.

"They stopped searching for you months ago," Mairc said in a low voice as Lira turned to Gareth slowly in confusion. "They have a new knight, did you know?"

"What are they talking about?" Lira asked, looking between Mairc, Darh, and Gareth in total confusion.

"You've been replaced."

Gareth winced at the thought of a new boy taking his place, sitting at his place at the table, sparring with _his_ brothers. Laughing at Bors' horrible jokes, complaining about Tristan's incredible aim and Kay's stifling over-protectiveness. A stupid boy that was living his life, the one _he_ had fought for. Gareth stared at the ground angrily, finally understanding that he was the only one who hadn't moved on.

"You're dead to them, Gareth," Darh said slowly, this time in a tone that wasn't meant to be hurtful. He took a step forward, resting a gentle hand on Gareth's shoulder.

"Gareth?" Lira echoed, more confused than ever. Mairc met her confused eyes and shook his head, silencing her.

"I'm offering you a second chance," Darh continued, completely ignoring Lira. Gareth raised his head, looking uncertain. "You don't need them, boy."

Gareth looked at the older Woad for a few moments, contemplating his choices. He knew that if he went back to the Wall, Arthur and his brothers would welcome him back with open arms. There was no doubt in that. But the thought of being replaced, to be forgotten, the thought of some other boy living _his _life, it killed Gareth. He had been with his brothers for six years, _six. _But, apparently, it had only taken them a matter of months to sever the bond between them and leave him behind in the dust.

With a nod of his head, Gareth silently agreed. Darh smiled and clapped him on the shoulder comfortingly. He took Gareth by the shoulder and led him into the forest silently.

--

Lira looked on as Heath agreed to stay with the Woads, utterly confused as to the happenings between him and the Woad leader. Everything about their talk confused her, especially when the man called Heath 'Gareth'. She looked at the remaining Woad, who was watching her with an amused look.

"Do I even want to know?" she asked, referring to the confusion.

The Woad thought for a moment and shook his head. "Probably not."

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